Future Phone

During spring break, my family's housekeeper's son, Ethan Shaw, steals my black card and takes the entire class on a luxury trip to Norkin. He books out an entire fireworks show to impress my girlfriend, Claire Sanders. Then, he treats everyone to first-class tickets for the cruise while basking in the spotlight. But when I discover he's using my card and confront him, he teams up with my girlfriend to twist the story. They accuse me of being jealous of him. Cornered on the deck, I'm about to pull out my phone to prove it when Ethan suddenly shoves me over the railing. I'm left hanging by one desperate hand. His voice is ice-cold. "Lucas is just picking a fight because he's after my money. I can't sleep soundly with him around." On Ethan's signal, his lackey crushes my fingers one by one until my grip fails. I fall into the open sea, ending as food for the fish. When I open my eyes, I find myself back on the day Ethan is booking the fireworks show. Watching him revel in the spotlight, I take out my phone and call the bank to cancel the card. This time, I want to see just how he plays the lavish big shot.

"Chris." The said man looked up at his mate and beta. One look,he understood what had happened. Without further ado,the man behind her walked out of the door closing it behind him. He stood up and stalked towards her. Grabbing her chin he said, "Darling, do you badly want to go outside and get taken by those men? They would sell you to a pimp house?! Why don't you just understand that I'm just trying to keep you safe?! Why can't you just stay here quietly?" Isabelle looked up into his eyes. He was taken aback by her boldness. No one ever dared to look into this eyes but it was to be expected after all, she was his mate. His equal. "What good is this place? At least out there, I won't be confined like a fucking prisoner! I so much hate this place. I can't breathe normally. It's all so suffocating! There's no one to keep me company, no phone no nothing. You as well, oh yeah, you treat me like I'm some disease that you'll contract if you get close to me. Like a plague! But don't you worry, cause I'm very happy with that behaviour. But at least just let me live my normal life. Why can't I just do that?!" She yelled tears trickling down her face. Chris who couldn't bear to see her cry moved his hands from her chin pulling her into his embrace. She fought against him for a while before she later calmed down and just sobbed into his cloth. "I'll let you go out. I'll give you my phone to use for the meantime. Just please stop crying." He whispered his voice breaking. He leaned to his table and took his phone sliding it into her pocket.

I receive a phone call at 3:00 pm. Apparently, my daughter, Marilyn Lopez, has suffocated to death because she was left behind on the school bus. When I arrive at the scene, I'm overwhelmed with sorrow the moment I see Marilyn's purple face. That's when I snatch a gun from a policeman and put a bullet between the eyes of the school bus driver, who's been playing on his phone this whole time. After the gunshot rings out, I open my eyes immediately. My alarm clock rings once again, showing that it's 7:00 am. I've gone back in time! Then, I see Marilyn wearing her backpack and telling me sweetly, "Mommy, the school bus is here!" I quickly stop Marilyn like a madwoman and refuse to let her board the school bus. But a gas leak occurs at 3:00 pm on the same day, causing Marilyn's death. No matter how much I try to save her, she keeps dying in various ways at 3:00 pm. This is the 108th cycle. As I stare at the weird smile on the school bus driver's face, I finally understand everything.

Anne Wellington spent three years as Donald Ashford's perfect fiancée, sacrificing her identity and dreams while he prioritized Hannah Grey, the woman who "saved his life" as a child. Anne endured public humiliation, emotional neglect, and constant comparison to a woman who weaponized victimhood. What Donald never knew? The patient woman he took for granted was heir to the Wellington real estate empire, a dynasty worth billions that could crush his company with a single phone call.

“Please! Jason! Pick up the phone!” Finally, someone picked up, but it wasn’t Jason. “Didn’t Jason tell you that he has no time for you today? He’s busy. Why do you keep calling?” The voice on the other end was Laura, Jason’s ex. The realization that Jason was with her while I and his unborn child were battling for our lives after an accident was a betrayal too painful to bear. If I survive, can I ever forgive him?

Three days after my death, Dominic Sharp receives a phone call asking him to identify my body. He has an arm wrapped around a woman's waist as he says indifferently, "I couldn't care less if she's dead. Call me once she's been cremated." My body is sent to the crematorium. After putting the ashes into an urn, an employee calls Dominic again. He clucks his tongue impatiently. "Alright, alright. I'll be there soon."

I make my final phone call to my boyfriend when a murderer is hunting me down. He thinks I'm messing with him and hangs up on me. That destroys the final sliver of hope I have for survival. He's celebrating his childhood friend's birthday when I'm being murdered. Later, as a restorative embalmer, he receives a body to restore. He loses his mind when he restores my shattered skull and realizes the body is mine.

Karen had invested her last penny in the business she had recently established and was eagerly awaiting the promised funds from her benefactor to take it to the next level. "Maybe he forgot. I should remind him," she thought, and promptly sent a text message: ‘I hate to sound desperate, but my finances are tight.’ After sending the message, she realized she had used the wrong number. She quickly started typing, ‘Please ignore the...’ when an alert popped up on her phone: ‘Five billion dollars transferred to you by Roger Dawson.’ Roger? The first name sent a chill down her spine, but the last name left her puzzled. "Roger? Could it be Tonia's bodyguard?" That was his number, but when did his name change? Her phone rang immediately, and the name she had feared for months echoed in her ears, his voice filled with emotion yet calm like a winter breeze. "Karen, stay put, I'm on my way to you." The call ended before she could process it. He was the reason she had fled, refusing to sign the divorce papers. Her love for him was unrequited, his heart belonging to her adopted sister, but what hurt more was the feeling of being traded between friends like a commodity. She would rather die than return.

When I got into a car accident, Carter was busy throwing a birthday party for his assistant. I was scrolling through my phone and somehow ended up tapping on the Love Pawnshop. Without really thinking, I hit the button to pawn my love. Five days later, the pawnshop took back every bit of love I had left to give, and there he was, Carter, on his knees, crying his heart out, begging me for another shot. But the thing is, once love is pawned, it’s almost impossible to get back.

The day his first love got divorced, my husband drank himself senseless. I stayed up past midnight taking care of him, only to discover that his phone’s photo album was filled with pictures of her. The next morning, after he sobered up, he said to me, “Let’s redo our wedding.” I knew this was his way of provoking his first love into coming back. I smiled and agreed, but not before I slipped a divorce settlement agreement into the wedding contract he signed.